


Concerns Most Clandestine

by Antiquity



Series: Pistols for Two [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Breaking Up & Making Up, Eloping, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antiquity/pseuds/Antiquity
Summary: Dick said, “Well, I can’t settle things, precisely. As I am not your guardian but only your care-taker, Stephanie, there is really only one thing I can do, and that is prohibit a formal engagement. I am very sorry for you both, but unless Lord Wayne changes his mind, it seems you must be content to wait until Tim reaches his twenty-fifth birthday and his fortune passes into his own hands.”At a mature twenty-eight Dick decided that his main role in London was to chaperone Stephanie in her first Season. In dealing with his young cousin's matrimonial concerns and plans for the future, however, Dick found his own past caught up and tangled in the present, and it seemed Lord Wayne had not forgotten about that old matter either...Inspired by and fused with Georgette Heyer's "A Clandestine Affair."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the fourth and last Regency instalment! Each one seems to be getting longer...and everyone seems to be related in this, EVERYONE, there are cousins everywhere! It's a little different to the others - no first time meetings and engagements within 24 hours (hey, if Heyer says it is so, so let it be) - and I hope you'll like it. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left a kudos or comment letting me know they've enjoyed the series so far! I've loved writing these and sharing them with you all :) As usual, no plagiarism is intended, only loving adaptations. Speaking of, let's pretend men can bring out young female cousins into society. 
> 
> Enough waffling from me, hope you enjoy and have a happy new Year!

Mr Grayson surveyed the young couple before him with a hint of unease in his eyes. To give Mr Drake and Miss Brown their due, however, there was nothing in their appearance to concern even the staunchest of critics: the lady was fair and her figure slender, while the gentleman was dark with a reserve of manner that only made his smile more charming when it appeared. Mr Drake was dressed neatly and properly for a morning visit: he was, in fact, doing justice to a momentous occasion. He had come to offer for the hand of Mr Grayson’s cousin.

Mr Drake said, with a shy smile, “I don’t suppose it can come as much of a surprise to you, sir. You’ve been so kind that I was persuaded – that is, I hoped you wouldn’t be displeased.”

No, it had not come as a surprise to Dick. It had been just over a year since Mr Timothy Drake was introduced to Miss Stephanie Brown in Bath’s Lower Rooms, but although Miss Brown did not lack for admirers, and though it must be supposed that the young and wealthy Mr Drake had had many caps set at him, neither had swerved in their affections since that date.

“Of course he’s not displeased!” Miss Brown said. “You knew from the start how it would be, didn’t you, Dick?”

“Yes,” Dick acknowledged, “I did. But I did not know until I brought you to London, my dear, that the connection was disliked by Tim’s family.”

“Oh no!” said Tim quickly. “Only by Bruce! My cousins the Allens like it extremely.”

“And Lord Wayne is only an uncle’s cousin, or something like that,” added Stephanie cheerfully. “Can he count as a relation if he is so removed?”

Tim did demur at this, saying diffidently, “Well, it is a trifle more than that, for he is my father’s cousin and has been my guardian, you know, for the last four years.”

“Indeed, and take care, my dear, for I myself am your father’s cousin,” Dick said, amused.

Stephanie pulled a face at this reminder, but Tim nodded in agreement. “I wouldn’t for the world displease him, only in _this_ case he thinks we are too young. He will come about, I promise. Particularly if I can tell him that you do not frown upon the marriage, Mr Grayson!”

“I don’t _frown_ on it, exactly,” Dick said cautiously, “but I agree that you are very young. This is Stephanie’s first Season, you know, and –”

“How can you say that?” protested the lady. “I may not have been regularly presented until the month before last, but you know you would have brought me to town a year ago if Great-aunt Clara hadn’t insisted she was too unwell to be left alone! Why, I am nineteen, and have been out in Bath this twelve-month! Barbara too said I should have come out last year, and if she were not bound to her chair she would have been happy to take me.”

“Yes, my dear, but I never knew until last week just how awkwardly Tim was situated. Or that he even had a guardian, much less –”

“No, no, sir,” Tim interrupted anxiously, “Bruce isn’t my guardian now that I am of age! He is merely my trustee. He has no power to prevent my marriage – no authority over me at all.”

“It seems to me that if he controls your accounts until you are five-and-twenty he has a great deal of power over you,” Dick said dryly.

Tim bit his lip, looking troubled, but said, “He wouldn’t – I _know_ he wouldn’t! People think him tyrannical and autocratic, but he has never been to me! I was only seventeen, you see, when my father died, and he not much above twenty-eight, and I used to follow him about like a puppy.”

Dick refrained from comment. It seemed unlikely that Timothy had ever offered Lord Wayne the least pretext for tyranny, for though Dick could acknowledge the brilliance of Tim’s mind and the pleasantness of his disposition, he did not feel that argumentativeness played a leading role in his character. There was no hint in his face of the stubbornness that could be found in the strong jut of Miss Brown’s chin.

“In any case, even if he doesn’t consent, we shall come off alright,” Stephanie announced optimistically. “After all, I have quite a genteel fortune of my own that we can live off until Tim turns twenty-five.”

But at this Dick intervened, saying firmly that neither he nor Stephanie’s father nor Stephanie’s great-uncle Mr Gordon would countenance an engagement entered into without Lord Wayne’s sanction. Stephanie, always outspoken, cried, “Oh dearest Dick, that’s fudge and you know it! Papa would say you should settle things as you think best.”

Dick laughed, but said, “Well, I can’t settle things, precisely. As I am not your guardian but only your care-taker, there is really only one thing I can do, and that is prohibit a formal engagement at the present moment. I am very sorry for you both, but unless Lord Wayne changes his mind, it seems you must be content to wait until Tim reaches his twenty-fifth birthday and his fortune passes into his own hands.”

It was not to be expected that two young people head over heels would view the prospect of waiting four years with anything less than abject dismay. Mr Drake took a dejected leave of his hosts, saying that he was sure he would prevail upon Lord Wayne to relent, and Miss Brown at once set about the task of convincing Dick that her attachment to Tim was no girlish fancy to be quickly forgotten in the face of London’s splendour.

It was unnecessary. Having had her in his charge for just over six years now, Dick knew well that Stephanie was neither volatile nor superficial. She was constant in her affections, and though she had been much courted in Bath no suitor had ever been honoured with a second dance until Mr Timothy Drake came upon the scene. Then she seemed to fall in love at first sight, and as she was clearly aware of Tim’s weaknesses and flaws as well as his strength and attractions, Dick knew she was not merely infatuated.

“My dear Steph,” he said at the end of an hour listening to Tim’s manifold good qualities and the occasional imperfection which therefore necessitated Stephanie’s guiding hand, “I do know what he means to you; let me have no more alphabetised lists!”

She laughed, but then became serious and took his hand between both of hers. “Please, Dick, you will help us, won’t you? If there was a _real_ reason for Lord Wayne to withhold his consent you know I would abide by it, but this qualm about age is stuff and nonsense. He is the wickedest creature, and my enemy! I only met him once, at Lady Diana’s ball, when Tim brought him over to be introduced, but he looked at me in such a way –!”

“Are you sure that wasn’t simply his habitual expression?” Dick put in, an odd twist to his smile, but Stephanie did not notice and waved the levity aside.

“Oh, if I had been a shabby-genteel wretch out to snare a rich husband I daresay he could not have been more repelling! But he must know I am not, since the Allens like me – you know Mr Bart Allen, don’t you, Dick? He and that family are related to Tim’s late mother, and have nothing to do with Lord Wayne, so I wish you could tell me what right Wayne has to hate the whole matter –” She cut herself off, breathing heavily. “Ah, talking won’t pay any toll! You can be sure Tim will not manage to bring that wicked creature about with mere words.”

* * *

Even less than his cousin did Dick believe Lord Wayne could be brought to change his mind, and much more astonished than Stephanie was he when, two days later, Lord Wayne called at the house in Green Street which had been hired for the Season.

Indeed, the news that his lordship was awaiting him in the drawing-room startled Dick into exclaiming, “Oh no! No, no, I cannot –” However, he recollected himself almost instantly, sent the servant down to inform Lord Wayne that Mr Grayson would be with him directly, and cast an anxious glance into the mirror over the mantelpiece before he left the room. His grey coat was neat and well-cut, and Dick was reassured that the subdued colour showed his twenty-eight years to be mature enough to raise a young cousin.

His guest was waiting at the window; when he heard the door open Lord Wayne turned to survey him with a hard, challenging look in his eyes. Dick shut the door. “You wished to see me, my lord. May I ask the reason?”

Lord Wayne bowed stiffly. “My gratitude for receiving me. As for my wishes – I thought it best to come here in person, to ensure there would be no misunderstandings between us occasioned by a letter.”

Dick turned away to sit gracefully in a winged armchair, and then indicated the one opposite him. “Pray be seated, sir.”

His guest did not avail himself of this invitation, but said brusquely, “You must know what my errand is. If you are indeed your cousin’s guardian – which I must say I find it ridiculous that you should be. You are too young, and she has a father.”

“Certainly she has a father,” Dick said coldly. “Arthur Brown is, however, not cut out for parenthood, and when he married again it was agreed Stephanie should be placed in my care, since our other cousin Barbara is sadly unable to chaperone her. Let me remind you that I am no longer a young man.”

At this point the conversation, which had been conducted thus far with at least the appearance of formality, took an abrupt turn. “I know to a day how old you are, so don’t talk nonsense to me!” his lordship snapped impatiently. “A more poorly-conceived arrangement –! Is that wretched aunt of yours with you?”

“No,” retorted Dick, eyeing him with hostility. “The indifferent state of her health –”

Lord Wayne gave a rough bark of sardonic laughter. “You needn’t tell me! Still suffering spasms and vapours and god knows what else, is she?”

“Did you come here merely to discuss my aunt’s health?” Dick demanded, rising from his chair and facing his opponent.

“You know very well why I am here. This deplorable affair between your cousin and mine – which you appear to have encouraged!”

“I can assure you, had I but known of Mr Drake’s relation to you I would have done my all to _dis_ courage an affair which I dislike as much as you!”

“A pretty sort of guardian,” he said scathingly, “not to have made it your business to enquire who Tim’s relations were.”

“Oh, and you made it your business to acquaint yourself with every one of Stephanie’s remote relatives?” Dick spat.

“It was unnecessary – I knew her to be the daughter of your cousin, and that was enough! I don’t want the connection, and I warn you I will do what I can to end it. Don’t underestimate me.”

Dick slashed a hand through the air between them. “Do rid your mind of the notion that I wish for this connection any more than you do,” he retorted. “Nothing could be more repugnant, I assure you, than an alliance with _your_ family!”

“Yes, you made that perfectly plain when you jilted me!”

“If by that you mean when I terminated an unfortunate engagement which you were regretting quite as much as I –!”

“I didn’t come here to discuss ancient history,” Lord Wayne interrupted roughly, turning away from Dick and striding to the window.

“Well, if you came here merely to inform me that you don’t wish your precious cousin to marry Stephanie you’ve wasted your time,” Dick countered, glaring at his back.

“Ah!” Lord Wayne instantly responded, spinning back around. “You do support the match. I might have known.”

Dick was just about to repudiate the suggestion – and probably curse the man to the devil and throw him out for good measure – when the promise he had made to Stephanie to at least see what he could do on her behalf occurred to him. It necessitated a severe struggle, but at last he succeeded in regaining his composure. “Come, Lord Wayne,” he said more calmly, “it won’t do to rip up old grievances. We might regret this business but a seven-year-old quarrel between us doesn’t create a bar to the marriage of these two children.”

“Have you told your cousin?”

“No – any more than you, I collect, have told yours. It is no concern of theirs.”

“Well, I will not have it,” Lord Wayne announced through gritted teeth, though he too had recovered his temper.

“Don’t fly into another rage,” Dick said, out of patience with him. “Our differences apart, what is there really to say against the match? Nothing, I daresay, could be more suitable.” He hesitated, and then added, “How selfish we would be, if we were to let them break their hearts simply because we once quarrelled.”

Lord Wayne’s lip curled disdainfully. “Hearts are not so easily broken.”

“No one knows that better than I!” Dick retorted.

“We need not, in that case, discuss such an absurd notion,” he said coldly.

Seven years of bitterness, compressed into a few sentences! Well, that was an end to it.

“Neither of us is in a position to appreciate the sufferings of two people who truly love each other,” Dick continued, forging ahead to try and consolidate what little ground he had gained. “Stephanie’s character is unlike mine: she has little concern for the rest of the world.”

“She could hardly have more,” interpolated his lordship, leaning against the wall by window with his arms folded across his chest. “Spare me any more moving speeches! She is young enough to recover from her disappointment and will no doubt transfer her affections to another, and, I trust, equally eligible suitor.”

Stung, Dick retaliated, “She could _that_ perfectly well!”

“Oh, don’t play off airs for me,” snapped Lord Wayne angrily. “You will not trick me into believing you do not know Timothy is one of the biggest prizes on the Matrimonial Mart! A feather in any drab girl’s cap.”

Drawing quick, furious little breaths in through his gritted teeth, Dick said, “If I have anything to say about it, he won’t be a feather in Stephanie’s cap!”

“Thank you,” Lord Wayne replied. “You have given me the assurance I wanted. I will not waste my time here any further. Goodbye.”

* * *

“Stephanie,” Dick said, with a very determined calm, “if your pride doesn’t revolt at the insinuation of having snared a rich matrimonial trophy, mine does! I am not asking you to put all thoughts of Tim out of your head, I am merely saying that until you come of age and he is his own master in every respect, I will neither accept his visits to this house nor allow you to go to places where you might meet him.”

A trembling lip was brought quickly under control, and Miss Brown said, with a fair attempt at lightness, “Dearest Dick, do you mean to lock me up? I must meet him at all the ton parties, after all, and at Almack’s too!”

“I know that,” Dick said, “and you know I don’t mean to lock you up. I have a much better scheme in mind: I know you have always wanted to see foreign countries, and I would so dearly love to see France and Italy again. Now that Bonaparte has been captured, it is possible once more –”

“No, oh no!” cried Stephanie. “I don’t give a fig for what Lord Wayne thinks! He has no power to forbid my marriage to Tim, and if he is indeed so wickedly spiteful as to cut off Tim’s allowance we can live on my inheritance. And no one will think ill of Tim for doing so, for he will naturally pay me back the instant he turns twenty-five if he feels that he ought to. All we need is Papa’s consent – which is to say, yours!”

“You will not get it,” Dick said with a fierceness his cousin had never seen before. “Steph, consider my position! How can you expect me to behave so improperly as to support a marriage which Tim’s closest relation has forbidden?”

He saw finally that his words seemed to have struck home, and was caught in a tight hug.

“Oh, I quite see! You are the best and dearest of cousins!” Stephanie declared. “I could never live with myself if I forced you to do something you thought wrong! Forgive me!”

Relieved, Dick told her not to be a goose, and wondered how speedily he could put his plans to travel abroad into action.

It could not be said that Miss Brown entered into any of the arrangements which were made to occupy Dick’s every moment over the next week, or showed any interest in any of the promised treats in store, but she uttered no protests. That, in Dick’s opinion, was as much as could be hoped for.

In hindsight, he reflected he really should have known better.

Returning to the house just past noon a week after Lord Wayne’s visit, Dick crossed to his writing desk, feeling vaguely guilty he had not yet answered a letter from Aunt Clara. Miss Clara Gordon and Mr James Gordon were the remaining siblings of Dick’s late mother Mary and Stephanie’s late grandmother Josephine. The lady was an invalid who delighted in informing her acquaintances about her numerous illnesses, and thus the daunting missive had contained a comprehensive list of her own ills, pains, torments, and aches, interspersed with all the latest scandals and gossip from Bath and a series of criticisms on the cards she had held at her latest game of whist.

Dick read through it once more before attempting to reply, relatively unperturbed. Aunt Clara did suffer greatly from rheumatism and arthritis, he knew, but he would have heard from the more reliable source of Jim Gordon if either she or Jim’s daughter Barbara, who was not one to bemoan her circumstances, were in pain enough to require his return to Bath to assist in the running of the household.

Lifting the lid of his bureau to search for a paper and pen to reply, Dick froze instead. The letter fluttered from his suddenly nerveless fingers as he stared at the folded piece of paper waiting on the blotter.

With a premonition of disaster Dick snatched it up and tore off the wafer which sealed it.

 _Dearest Dick_ , it read. _This will come as a Shock to you, and I can only beg your Forgiveness, and to understand (as I am sure you will) the Dire Nature of my Situation which Compelled me to act in a way which is as Abominable to me as it is to you. By the time you read this, I shall be many miles distant, and when I Cast myself at your feet to Beg Pardon it will be as the Bride of my Adored Tim. Please believe I have not reached such a Decision without an Agonising Struggle, for to approach the Altar without you breaks my heart! I cannot, however, Implicate you in this, and thus surrender your company in order to Spare you from Lord Wayne’s fury at (my hand shakes to pen these Dreadful Syllables) my Elopement…_

Stunned by this communication, Dick could not for a few seconds believe what he had just read. Another perusal, however, solidified the facts in his mind, and jolted him into movement. Striding back into the atrium, he pulled on his greatcoat again and snatched up his hat and gloves before slipping out of the door and hailing the first hackney carriage to turn the corner. Five minutes later, Dick sprinted up the stairs of a house he once knew well and seized the doorknocker.

“Bless my soul…Mr Grayson?” The neat, elderly butler who opened the door could not be said to gape at him, but it was close.

“Mr Pennyworth, is Lord Wayne in? It’s most urgent that I see him, believe me!” Dick slipped into the hall before the butler could deny him.

“I do believe you, sir,” Mr Pennyworth said dryly, but as he opened his mouth to say more, Lord Wayne’s furious shout of _Alfred!_ thundered through the house. The owner of the voice appeared a moment later, and the black thunder in his face deepened when he saw who was standing there. “You’ve saved me a journey. Have you had one of these affecting pieces of rot too?”

Dick held out Stephanie’s letter silently, and received Tim’s in return. It was in much the same vein, though less dramatic, and similarly stated that he was determined to marry in spite of any opposition.

“Imbeciles,” Lord Wayne hissed, and Mr Pennyworth cleared his throat warningly. “Oh, you have a taste for star-crossed romance, Alfred? No doubt you would find this affecting; I do not.”

“Stop your storm clouds and tell me if you know where they are,” Dick recommended.

“There’s no need for me to tell you that, it should be obvious,” retorted Lord Wayne. “Gretna Green!”

Dick recoiled. “How dare you suggest such a thing? Surely Stephanie would not be so lost to all sense of dignity and propriety to set off for the Border for an illegal marriage!”

“Can you tell me where else they might go? She is underage, and they do not need a post-chaise and four to hoodwink a clergyman. I received confirmation that they had booked one from my groom just as you arrived,” Lord Wayne said, brandishing another piece of paper. “The horses were hired till Welwyn, and Welwyn, I need not remind you, is on the Great North Road.”

“Dear god,” Dick said quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean to overtake them long before they reach the Border, never fear.”

“Bruce, can you catch them?” Dick asked, forgetting himself at the first scent of the chase. “She must have left the house before nine o’clock – they have at least three hours’ head start, if not four!”

“Do you care to lay odds against me, Dick? I wouldn’t, if I were you! I’ll have them before nightfall.”

Dick raised one brow, unimpressed. “Well, what are you waiting for? Shall we?”

Bruce stared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not taking anyone on this mad dash, not even my groom!”

With a scornful toss of his head, Dick nodded to Alfred, turned, strode straight down the stairs to where he had heard Bruce’s curricle pull up a second earlier, and climbed in. He heard a furious oath from behind him, and smirked as he accepted the reins.

“Are you coming, or shall I drive?” Dick asked with complete nonchalance as Bruce stormed down the steps, pulling on his own gloves.

“You’ll break you neck; you’ve never driven this team before. Hell, _I_ will break your neck,” Bruce snarled, climbing up and nearly snatching the reins from Dick’s hands. “I still might, if you say a single word before we find them.”

With this dire warning, Bruce commanded the groom to stand away from the horses and set the curricle into motion.

The first few miles were obediently covered in silence – Bruce’s attention was completely taken up by guiding a fresh, impatient team through London’s crowded streets, and Dick was absorbed in his distressing thoughts. These became marginally more cheerful at the speed which with the light curricle, the strong horses, and Bruce’s excellent driving ate up the miles. When they swept through Barnet without a check, Dick ventured to ask where Bruce meant to change horses, and was told that the team was good for another two stages.

At Welwyn, where Lord Wayne had arranged to change horses, they did indeed receive the first hint of the eloping pair. One of the waiters to whom Dick spoke as Bruce gave orders regarding his team had had amble opportunity to observe the well-dressed young gentleman who had fetched a glass of lemonade for his lady. He described him in a way which left no room for doubt. Dick’s tentative hopes went instantly into eclipse, and were not improved by Bruce saying, “Satisfied?” as they pulled out.

Irritated by this unhandsome taunt, he responded, “An odd notion you must have of me if you think I am _satisfied_ by any of this.”

“No, it turns out my notion of you was correct – you are unfit for this role of guardian, and your cousin has just provided the evidence!”

“If it comes to that, you’ve made a sad botch of _your_ ward,” Dick snarled, incensed.

“As to that, I have not the smallest doubt Tim was cajoled into this escapade by Miss Brown’s wiles.”

Dick had to acknowledge the truth of this. “To be frank, neither have I. Stephanie has ten times his spirit, though I quite understand the cause of this sad want of resolution in Tim. Poor boy! It must indeed have been hard to develop _any_ strength of character, bullied and browbeaten as he has been.”

“ _Bullied and browbeaten_?” blankly echoed his lordship.

“It’s alright, Bruce, I daresay you never knew you were crushing his spirit,” Dick offered in a comforting tone.

“No, nor he either, let me tell you! You only have to add that fear of me prompted this elopement, and you will have gone your length.”

“Well, of course it has!” Dick said in astonishment, turning to stare at Bruce’s grim profile.

“God grant me patience,” Bruce growled. “So you mean to place all the blame on my shoulders, do you? Well, you won’t – you are to blame, not I!”

“ _Me_?” demanded Dick.

“Yes, you, with your bloody stupid plan to carry that tiresome chit out of the country! Of all the ill-judged schemes – I thought you had more brain than that!”

“This goes beyond everything,” Dick interrupted, throwing his hands up. “Next you will say it was I who forbade marriage as a whole!”

“You were the only one with the authority to do so, at any rate.”

“Oh really? And I suppose I am imagining your visit to Green Street, where you swore you would put an end to the project and warned me not to underestimate your power?”

“When I said that I credited you with enough sense not to force the matter into a crisis.”

“No, this is all bloody nonsense,” snapped Dick. “Don’t you dare tell me you are without power, Bruce, because I know very well you can withhold Tim’s fortune from him!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Bruce said irritably, “it doesn’t become you. How could I do that?”

“You threatened it!”

“Very likely, but if Tim believed that he is an even bigger fool than I knew. If he was in earnest there was nothing I could do to prevent this mad marriage – eligible in the world’s eyes, if not mine. If _you_ had refrained from interfering, I could have handled Tim: it wasn’t any threat of mine which forced this flight, it was your determination to whisk the girl out of his reach.”

Dick bunched the hem of his coat in his fists, heedless of ruining the well-cut cloth, the better to tamp down the desire to take a mad swing at Bruce. “Of all the unjust things you have ever said to me,” he exclaimed, breath coming quick in his rage, “this is without parallel! So I _interfered_? And what, pray tell, was the purpose of your visit to Green Street if not to provoke me into doing so?”

He saw a slight flush creep into Bruce’s lean cheek, a sign of discomfort which afforded Dick far more gratification than he was prepared to admit. “Ha!” he said triumphantly, releasing his coat and folding his arms. “If there is any virtue in you, you’ll own yourself at fault and beg my pardon!”

That evoked a sharp breath and an aborted jerk on the reins which almost confused the leading horse. “No,” Bruce said roughly, “never again! _Once_ I did so – took on myself the blame for a quarrel which was _not_ of my making – begged you to forgive –” He checked himself, and then said bitterly, “Even Tim isn’t as big a fool as I was.”

He reined in, for they had reached a toll-gate, and Dick was never more relieved to be spared the necessity of answering. The quick breathing which anger had begun was now the hurried, frightened breath of an animal caught in its own snare, and his heart was lurching about in his chest so much it made him feel ill. While Bruce bought a ticket to open the turnpikes on the next stage he had time to recover his countenance, and managed to say quite calmly after they began moving again, “If that man is to be believed, we have gained on them, but they must still be a ways ahead. Where do you expect to overtake them?”

“Not short of Stamford, unless they meet with some accident,” he replied shortly.

They were entering Baldock, and neither spoke again until the town was a few miles behind them. Guiding the horses around a corner and onto a straight patch of road, Bruce demanded abruptly, “Why did you never answer? Do you think it cost me nothing to write that letter?”

Dick shook his head, an aching constriction in his throat making impossible for a moment to speak. He overcame it, and said, with his eyes fixed on the road in front of them, “I thought it better not to reply – not to reopen – when I received it, our whole house was in an uproar. Barbara had just suffered the horse accident which crippled her and we were all terrified she would not survive it. Add to that the uncertainty of Stephanie’s mother Georgiana’s death no more than a month earlier…you know what Arthur is like; he was far too young to marry and to father a child, and the arguments he and Aunt Clara had almost tore the place apart. She too had had another spasm, and couldn’t walk for weeks. It is useless to suppose she could have run the household, not with Uncle Jim worrying himself to pieces about Barbara.”

Bruce had listened in thunderstruck silence, but at this he broke in. “And equally useless for me to tell you that nothing ever ailed Clara but jealousy, spite, incompetence and a selfishness I have never seen rivalled! We have argued enough on that score.”

“We have,” Dick agreed with a very tremulous smile. “Must I own you were right? I think perhaps you were…though I cannot deny her constitution was never strong. But she was left to raise my mother, Jim and Josephine when their mother died, and Mother always felt indebted to her for that. Aunt Clara and Uncle Jim took me in too, after the deaths of my parents. Well, that is in the past, now.”

“I told you years ago she would ruin your life if she could! I was grieved to hear about Barbara's accident, but she would never have asked you to give up your future to stay and nurse an invalid; not so Aunt Clara. Anything to make sure she had willing slaves to cater to her every hypochondriac whim. I learn now that she ruined my life too.”

“Nonsense,” said Dick, digging his nails into his arms. “You know very well no two people could have been less suited than we were! Hell, I worshipped the ground you walked on and then tested every limit you ever had, and you scolded me like a teacher, a mentor, before indulging my every whim! As for ruining lives, you cannot tell me you’ve been wearing the willow for the past seven years, for I know very well that that is not the case. If only half the rumours are true you’ve never lacked consolation.”

“Is that what they say of me? No, I haven’t worn the willow, but the one tale you never heard was that I was looking to marry.”

“I do think you are most wise to remain single. Bachelors have the most amusing time! Did you really shower Talia al Ghul with rose petals on a yacht in the Mediterranean and then recycle them for a tryst with Slade Wilson in Greece later that day?”

A muscle at the corner of Bruce’s mouth quivered. “You haven’t changed! How often I have wanted to wring your neck for just such an impetuous remark. No, it is not true. Slade Wilson? Credit me with some taste.”

“Shame,” said Dick lightly. “It sounds wonderfully entertaining. But as you said, there is nothing to be gained by discussing ancient history. We have a far more pressing matter at hand: what is to be done with the children once we catch them?”

“Wring _their_ necks,” Bruce suggested.

“Impractical. I have no taste for Newgate, even if you do!”

He laughed. “Depend upon it, I shall haul Tim over the coals.”

“I own I am tempted to do the same to Stephanie, but it won’t answer, Bruce: we shall be obliged to give our consent with as good a grace as we can.”

“In that case, why not escort them to the anvil?” he said sardonically, glancing over at Dick.

“Don’t fly off into a temper now,” sighed Dick. “I might have known you’d turn mulish. You always did make bad worse!”

* * *

By the time Stamford was reached, Dick felt like every bone in his body was being jolted like dice in a box and could only think Bruce’s infamous iron will had not deserted him over the seven years they had spent apart. More than eighty miles had been covered, and in the six hours it had taken Bruce had allowed only two short breaks in which to eat and drink something. Dick forgave him for his increasing surliness; he still sat with the same upright posture and steady hands, but Dick knew even without seeing the faint lines between Bruce’s brows how tired he must be.

They swept into the courtyard of the main hostelry at Stamford with faint sighs of relief, and climbed down. Dick winced and stretched, watching Bruce stalk over to a post-boy loitering nearby and begin to question him.

When Bruce returned to the curricle fifteen minutes later, carrying two tankards, Dick was already in the seat with the reins of the fresh team of horses in his hands.

“Well?” he said, accepting the drink.

“Our runaways are not here,” Bruce said, “and I’ve not been able to get any news of them from the post-boys who work in the other inns around the town.”

“Do you think they have stopped at an inn?” Dick asked, gulping down the tepid ale, and Bruce shook his head.

“If that was the case I would have discovered some trace of them, but in such a busy posting-inn the most likely reason we have not heard of them is that no one recalls them being here long enough to notice.”

“So we press on,” sighed Dick, handing back the tankard. Bruce accepted it and gave them to a passing waiter, but looked narrowly up at Dick.

“You’ve come far enough. Put up here for the night – I’ll make sure they don’t question your lack of luggage.”

Dick snorted inelegantly, and tightened his hands on the reins. The horses perked up their ears and shifted their weight at the signal. “Get on.”

Bruce swore and leapt up as Dick gave the horses the office to start, and only refrained from snatching the reins out of his companion’s hands due to his unwillingness to startle the unfamiliar team. “Give me the reins, Dick!”

“You’ve been driving for hours, Bruce. Rest a moment; I won’t overturn us.”

“It’s not necessary –”

“Bruce.”

Miracle of miracles, the man subsided and sulked in his corner of the curricle for the next few miles, eyes at half-mast. Dick knew him well enough to know he wasn’t sleeping, but the difficulties of a poorly-matched team of fractious horses held all of his attention.

They got no reliable news of the runaways at the two pikes north of Stamford, but at Greetham, where they stopped for another change – Bruce stubbornly took back the reins – an ostler clearly remembered the young lady and gentleman, since he had led out four lively nags for them and not many minutes ago, neither. He’d suspicioned that there was something havey-cavey about the whole business, arguing as they were and in an awful hurry, he wanting to stop and she wanting to push on to Grantham come hell or high water.

“Making it plain they were an eloping couple,” Dick growled once they were on their way again. “How Stephanie could be so dead to shame –!”

Bruce returned no answer, and Dick resigned himself to staring at the passing landscape, mind filled with gloomy thoughts.

He was presently jerked out of these by Bruce’s sharp, “At last!”

The curricle had swept around a bend and brought into view a post-chaise and four, rattling along at a swift pace ahead of them. “Hand me the yard of tin,” Bruce commanded, eyes on the chaise.

“Look after the horses,” Dick retorted, already raising the horn to his lips and producing an ear-splitting blast.

“That should startle them,” Bruce observed dryly. “Oh my god, of all the infernal –”

This outburst was occasioned by the growing gap between the vehicles: instead of pulling to the side at the sound of the horn to allow the rear carriage to overtake the one in front, the post-boys had whipped up the horses.

“Hold on!” Bruce said, cracking his own whip.

“Bruce, for heaven’s sake!” Dick gripped the edge of his seat but wasted no time in trying to remonstrate with his companion. The show of defiance had thoroughly enraged him; Bruce was going to pass the chaise if it killed them both. A wild bubble of laughter grew in Dick’s chest – oh, how he had missed this! – and as it escaped he thought he saw the corner of Bruce’s mouth curve, but he had no time to do anything but hold on as the horses sped up. They swept around a corner; ahead lay a straight stretch of road – Bruce swung the curricle out to the right and dropped his hands. The horses surged forward, hooves thundering – Dick laughed at the wind in his face, clinging tightly to the bench – and they were past.

“Bruce!” he laughed again, relaxing as the horses were brought down to a trot, and then to a walk.

“Dick?” Bruce said, smirking, as he pulled his team across the road ahead of the chaise to form a barrier. Relinquishing the reins into Dick’s hands he jumped down and strode over to the other carriage. As it drew to a stop he reached up to open the door, but before he could it was thrust open from within and a dark, bespectacled youth tumbled out, not waiting for the steps.

“I do beg your pardon, sir! I didn’t mean – at least, we – oh, that was marvellous! I’ve never seen anyone rush by quite like that, what a show! But I think you must be very vexed?” he added, gazing in dismay up at Lord Wayne’s countenance.

His lordship was, in fact, stupefied and thunderstruck, but his expression was certainly alarming. The unknown youth said contritely, “We should not have, I know, but we were only funning. I daresay you know how it is, when one is in high spirits – and –” he trailed off, finding no understanding in the eyes staring so fiercely at him.

At this point, an interruption occurred – not by Dick, who was trying so hard not to laugh he was shaking where he sat, but by a blonde damsel clad in the clothes of a school-room miss who poked her head out of the chaise. She wore a mix of mischief and remorse on her face and said, “It was my fault! I didn’t want to put up at Stamford, because it has been a whole year since I was home and I couldn’t have slept a wink! Only when we changed horses at Greetham Edward said the light was fading, and I said we could just go faster, and surprise everyone at home, since they don’t expect us till tomorrow, and that it would be such a joke if everyone was to think we were eloping!”

“I should explain, sir, that Harleen is my sister,” added Edward, eager to shed light in dark places. “She has been at school.”

“Yes, and I begged that Edward come and get me, because he is my particular brother, just like Harvey is Pamela’s!”

Bruce, stunned as much by these artless confidences as by the shock of finding he had waylaid two complete strangers, could think of nothing to say but, “Oh,” and that in a blank voice which made it necessary for Dick to bite down on his lip and clap a hand over his mouth. “Well. No harm done. If you have a fancy to race, next time do not do so on a public highway in a hired chaise with your sister with you. Tell me, have you come from London?”

“Yes, I do beg your pardon! Oh no, we came from Oxford. We live at Grantham, see?”

“I do see. Now then, if you are to reach home before dark you’d best lose no more time; off with you!” He gestured to Dick, who, still shaking, began to move the curricle out of the way.

“Thank you!” said Edward, much relieved. “Though, would you rather go first?”

“No, I should only hold you up – I don’t mean to go at your hell-for-leather pace.”

Laughing heartily, brother and sister returned to their chaise and drove off. Bruce, walking back with a heavy frown on his face, glared balefully at Dick as he finally succumbed to his emotions.

“Don’t look at me like that,” wailed Dick, hiccupping. “Oh Bruce, if you could have seen your face!”

A reluctant laugh was drawn from his lordship. “Some help _you_ were. But now where the devil are those hell-born brats?”

“What a wild goose chase! Have we been following them the whole time?”

“No, didn’t you hear them? Those two came from Oxford, and must have joined the road just past Stamford. That’s where we took up their trail. Until then, we were on the heels of our own pair.”

That sobered Dick. “Do you think they are still ahead of us?”

“No,” Bruce said decidedly. “They haven’t passed any of the pikes. Out of Stamford we’ve been following Edward and Harleen.”

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “Losing a trail, Bruce? _You_?”

He smiled, but absently, and climbed back into the curricle. “Where…oh my god, fool that I have been! Of course! They turned off the road at Stamford, and went down to Grantley!”

Following his train of thought without difficulty, Dick gasped. “Oh lord, of course! Tim’s cousin Bart lives there! But surely he has no authority to sanction the marriage?”

“No, but I’d wager Tim has a special licence in his pocket, and means to be married under the Allens’ roof. They’re mighty tight, that pair; I’m sure Tim could bring Bart around to his way of thinking without much trouble.”

“And Wally is in France with Artemis for their honeymoon,” Dick sighed, “or I would have relied on him for help.”

“No need to fly into decline,” Bruce said. “Bart’s husband Jaime can be relied upon to talk some sense into them. He won’t tolerate such a ridiculous scheme.”

“Yes, and while such a thing is better than a flight to the Border it will still give rise to too many wagging tongues –”

“For god’s sake, I am heartily sick of that infernal pair,” Bruce snapped. “They can go to the devil; I won’t waste another moment thinking about them.” With that, he set the horses into motion.

“Where are we going?” Dick demanded. “If Tim took Steph to his cousin’s house there is no need to go further north. Don’t be an idiot, Bruce.”

“I’m not,” he said, with an odd laugh. “But we set off for Gretna Green, and to Gretna Green we will go! Our immediate destination, however, is Coltersworth, where we can put up for the night, buy some clothes, and then, unless you would dislike it very much, resume our journey in the morning.”

After a slight pause, Dick said, “I think I would dislike it.”

Bruce halted his team and dropped the reins, taking one of Dick’s hands in his and cupping his cheek with the other. “Dick!” he said, in quite another voice. “So many years wasted – so much bitterness – Dick, my darling, don’t say it’s too late! You _must_ marry me – you _will_!”

“I have every intention of marrying you,” Dick said tremulously, a smile in his glimmering eyes as he tightened his fingers on Bruce’s and nuzzled his cheek into Bruce’s palm. “Just not in such a clandestine fashion. Bruce, for heaven’s sake –! Bruce, there’s a coach coming!”

But Lord Wayne, with his usual haughty disregard for appearances, ignored this warning completely, and as Dick had no wish and no breath with which to wrest himself from Bruce’s embrace, the roof passengers on the Accommodation Coach were afforded a shocking example of the decay of modern manners. One moralist went so far as to express his desire to see such shameless persons locked in the stocks.

“Kissing and hugging on a public highway, where anyone can see!” he grumbled, craning his neck to gawk at the spectacle. “Calling themselves Quality, too!”

But here he was wrong. With his cheek on Bruce’s shoulder, Dick said, on a little choke of laughter, “What a _vulgar_ couple we are, my love.”

“Well, who cares?” Bruce demanded, kissing him again. “Oh, my darling, what fools we have been!”

  

 


End file.
